


Eyes that commit

by jonasnightingale



Series: Heavy Accents & Swollen Ankles [5]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comments are love, F/M, Getting Together, I Don't Even Know, Jealousy, no beta we die like men, otp: I just want her to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonasnightingale/pseuds/jonasnightingale
Summary: In which the distance between them yawns wider when Carisi stops coming by for spaghetti night, but a visit from Nick draws the green monster of jealousy from him.Grappling with the changes in Rollins and Carisi's relationship and where they could go from here.
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. & Amanda Rollins, Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro/Amanda Rollins, Rafael Barba & Amanda Rollins
Series: Heavy Accents & Swollen Ankles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595524
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Eyes that commit

She was scared of losing him as Liv had lost Barba. 

A new chill had snuck in between them in the wake of their dispute. Her nonchalance and his bleeding heart at odds in a way that sent a pang of despair through her. It increased in the silence of the evening, in his controlled smile the next day when she mustered a “we missed you last night” and he responded only with “tell ‘em I was thinking about my favourite gals”, in the tense shoulders and restrained hand gestures. 

It coloured everything, of course, and she had acknowledged and skilfully side-stepped its presence for years. The fear of waking up one day and finding him gone. It was in the background of every discussion about pursuing a DA’s career, fuelling the sharp curiosity of his dates, thrumming down her spine in the decisions around Doctor Al. He was the steady thread in her world. The kind of constant you could build a life on. And she couldn’t bear the notion that she would drive him away, that eventually she’d push him so far he’d just turn his back.

**

When Carisi strolls into the squad room he’s surprised to see a familiar head of brown hair, a familiar sturdy pair of shoulders leaning towards Rollins. And the pull of something akin to jealousy at the familiar hint of a blush on Amanda’s cheeks makes him draw up short. Nick. The partner she’d liked more. Her gaze catches his and he feels it in his chest as her smile dims and the sparkle in her eyes disappears. There’s a new tension between them he can’t get past, and it feels like drowning, like wading through a stream unsure when the bottoms going to just fall out. Nick stands to greet him with a grin and a rough hand on his shoulder. “Carisi! Didn’t expect to see you, Liv tells me you’ve up and joined the dark side.” His eyes jut to Amanda, disappointed that it hadn’t been her to mention it, and he manages out a taciturn “Yeah. Didn’t expect to see you either.” Fin leans back a little further in his seat, watching the drama unfold with his characteristic pose. 

Carisi can’t help but feel small, like he’s once more on the back foot, just slightly out of the circle. He remembers all those times that first year, constantly feeling like he was interrupting, smiling at inside jokes he wasn’t party to, being left out of lunch invites. 

He tries to join in the chitchat, really, but it’s hard to keep his jaw from tensing at the look in Amanda’s eyes as Nick diatribes about his time in Miami, about Zara. It’s hard not to think about the one short moment in which a similar gaze was directed at him. And when Amaro finally makes to leave with a hand too long on Amanda’s arm and a “See you tonight. 6pm?”, Carisi can’t help but chime up “Tonight?”. He feels Amanda’s eyes on him, almost feels the gut punch coming, “Yeah, I’m meeting Jesse and Billie for spaghetti night. Gonna wow them with my bolognese.” It takes a beat but Carisi clenches his teeth and tries for a smile as Nick throws them a wave and leaves. 

The second they hear the elevator chime Carisi drops the false grin and turns his gaze harshly to Amanda. She’s knocked breathless by the emotions written across his face, by the pain and anger and betrayal she finds there. And then he turns and walks out. 

**

It had been so easy with Nick, falling into the old groove between them. He was a natural with the kids, of course, and it was so effortless to lean across the bench as he cooked them dinner, listen to his stories about learning to surf and taking Zara to the science museum. But despite how natural it was to have him back in her apartment, his hand lingering on her back as he slips past her, there’s some sliver of wrongness about the scene. There’s no humming in the kitchen, which she’d come to associate with its use thanks to Carisi’s inane need to swing his hips and hum under his breath as he cooked. Jesse is enraptured by Nick’s stories but there’s none of the high pitched giggles from Billie that spaghetti night usually brings. And when she drops onto the couch after the girls are asleep, it’s the sport channel that greets her not Bravo. Still she settles against his side and sighs as his fingers lace through her hair. His lips meet her and this is easy too. 

**

The warmth of last night is chased out when she thinks about seeing Carisi at work today. Yesterday, she had felt a pang of guilt when his eyes had been so big and pained in the squad-room, but now all she feels is anger. A blinding hot fury that feels dangerous and demanding. For so long she had let him look at her with disappointment, sometimes disapproval, when she got her rocks off elsewhere - with Nick, with Doctor Al, with that bartender in Virginia. But he was the one who always turned away. Lately it was all he had been doing; turning her down for drinks, leaving her standing in recesses of the courthouse, responding to her texts with short replies, flinching away from her touch, cancelling on dinner. There was a mug hidden in her desk that Jesse had made for him months ago, a fathers day gift she never worked up the guts to give him. Now she wants to piff it at his stupid head. He had _left_ them. For a short while she had believed that the transfer would allow them more space to grow together, had envisioned debriefing about their days over dinner and Disney movies. But instead he puts more and more distance between them and then has the gumption to be mad at _her_ for having Nick over. She’s livid and there’s irritation in every muscle as she goes about her morning tasks. 

Their paths don’t cross til late afternoon and by then she’s almost been dissuaded to let the whole thing rest. Buoyed by Kat’s enthusiastic questioning about Nick and Fin’s insistence on ignoring the entire conversation, she’s feeling almost normal, almost happy, by the time Carisi strolls through the door. She smiles at him on instinct and feels the expression freeze on her face as his eyes skip right past her. Fin and Kat exchange a quick look beside her and she feels the fury rekindle. 

Working out her aggression with the punching bag has only done so much to dissuade the indignation burning her insides, which is how she finds herself here, in his office. It’s not how she’d ever have pictured having this conversation, leaning over piles of case notes, other junior ADA’s just a couple desks over. But she needs to get it out. If this were Nick she would be in his face, pushing until he pushed back, letting their frustrations fuel something else. Instead she stands firm with the desk separating them. 

He leans back in his seat, a forced nonchalance as he asks her “What do you need, Detective?” And that breaks her tenuous grip on the anger.  
“What the hell is your problem?” she bites out. His eyes tighten and he leans forward in his seat, his own frustration catching from hers.  
“My problem??” His hand flails between them, an irate motion she usually finds quite adorable.  
“You don’t get to be pissed about this Carisi.” He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at her.  
“What exactly is it that I’m supposedly so _pissed_ about huh Rollins?” He doesn’t want to have this discussion, knows that at the heart of the argument is something they’ve been skating around so long. She throws her arms out in exasperation,  
“For Nick, for spaghetti night, for …whatever.” He scoffs and looks away and she leans forward across the desk, commanding. “No, no, you _do not_ get to be pissed at me for _this,_ ya hear? Not for having someone else cook a damn meal for once, not for sleeping with anyone, not for any of it.” His hands plant on the desk and he opens his mouth to retort but she beats him to it, “No. I’m not the fucking Virgin Mary here, my virtue is not yours to protect.” His reply is sharp and loaded and the regret shines in his eyes the moment the words are out.  
“Oh I’m all too aware of that.”  
“ _You_ walked away Carisi. You. You’re the one who walked out.” His next exclamation is loud enough that even the ADA’s pretending to ignore their confrontation turn in surprise.  
“I’m with the squad **every day**.” She trips over his response with her own,  
“I’m not talking about the squad!” He stops short, mouth hanging slightly open, brow furrowed like that day in the precinct, when they’d thrown down about the same thing. Guess they weren’t as good as they pretended to be. “You walked out on _me_. On us.” His eyes try to search hers but she shakes her head and turns around. The fury within her has been suddenly diminished, all fight drained. All she feels is sadness, disappointment, grief. She turns around and drops the mug onto his desk, her forlorn eyes meeting his where he’s still sat frozen, shock and confusion painted across his face, “Just… just forget about it. It doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow, Counsellor.” And she’s out the door. The others in the office turn to throw him glances and he moves his fingers slowly towards the item she’d left. A mug with four yellow haired figures and a long dog transferred onto it’s surface, a ‘Happy fathers day love’ scrawled in an unfamiliar neat cursive followed by a messy lopsided ‘JESSE’. 

**

She runs home, focussing on the steady pounding of feet against pavement. She could do with a drink, a distraction, the roll of a dice. For a moment she contemplates calling Nick, falling into the old solutions, but its not his hands she wants on her. Kat would be willing to get her drunk and take her mind off it, but the idea of explaining it all makes her flush with embarrassment. It’s nights like this she misses Barba; he would have bantered with her over a few rounds in a booth at Fortolini’s, demanded no answers from her. They’d always been good at pretending to not know each other’s hearts.

Carisi’s leaning beside her door, briefcase stood against the wall at his feet and hand pulled down tiredly across his face. She stops when she sees him, pulling her headphones out and watching the way he moves his weight to turn and face her. He ducks and shakes his head slightly, and there’s so much in the way he says her name, “Amanda,” - a plea, an apology, a salve - she moves towards him and he meets her eyes with the self-depreciating quirk of his lip that he does, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug “You were right.” 

She’s not sure when she makes the decision but suddenly she’s surging up to bring their lips firmly together. He doesn’t respond and she pulls back, eyes tracking over his face. She remembers that she’s still breathless from the run, sweating and probably red faced, but hell he’s seen her in worse condition. He sucks in a quick breath and she feels his hands drift up to her waist. His voice is rough and he swings his gaze away and back as he mutters “I’m not Nick.” She settles her weight on one hip and looks up at him with conviction as she replies, “I know who you are Carisi.” He flashes her a brief smile before the nervous expression drops back across his face, but his eyes are bright. He crowds slightly closer into her, voice a low whisper “Yeah?”. She lets her hand trace from his temple down his face, smiling at the open hope laid bare in his gaze, “Yeah.” His lips quirk into another grin before they reach hers to press against hotly. 

Her chest is heaving against his when they seperate. She takes in his bewildered expression and the smile pushing against his cheeks, matching his grin with a small smile of her own, “Come inside, Dominick. You’ve got a whole fan club who’ll want to see you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> “eyes that commit. that is what I am looking for.” ― Nayyirah Waheed, Salt


End file.
